


That Which Thickens Blood with Cold

by Bofur1



Series: The Songs of Our Hearts [8]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Don't Try to Argue, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Feels, Gen, Heavy Angst, Nightmares, PTSD really is a character in this story, Post BoFA, Psychological Horror, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the BoFA, Dori has almost forgotten the very meaning of the word 'hope'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Which Thickens Blood with Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [After the Battle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/718209) by [jynx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynx/pseuds/jynx). 



> The fragment of the song belongs to Peter Gabriel.

 

This battle was unlike any other. The anarchy was unfathomable and death saturated every breath of air. The howls and screams were climbing in pitch and Dori was certain his ears were bleeding for the way they rang with the noise.

There was almost no way to tell anyone or anything apart; every surface was splashed with black and red, as though there were a great painter above who had spilled his dye. Dori wasn’t certain if he was striking the right people; everyone was stained the same sickly color.

In a way Dori didn’t care who he killed. All he wanted was to survive himself. He wasn’t allowed to be killed—there was but one reason why, but it was enough. As he brought his onslaught down harder the reason flared in Dori’s mind like a swinging lantern. It was only three words, over and over, but it was enough to keep him on his feet.

_Nori and Ori._

He wasn’t fighting for the gold, or the Mountain, or his grudge against the Elves. He was fighting for them.

_Nori and Ori, Nori and Ori..._

Where were they in all this bedlam? Were they safe?

“No, no! _No one is safe!_ ” Dori screamed, swinging his sword with such ferocity that it sliced straight through the chainmail protecting his enemy’s neck, sending the head flying. He watched the body fall, and when it landed on the ground at his feet Dori realized that it wasn’t an Orc. His weapons fell from his limp fingers, and Dori collapsed to his knees. He groped blindly at the hand of the Dwarf he’d just killed, and felt the blood-matted wool beneath the gauntlets.

It couldn’t be...He couldn’t have just...!

The self-loathing wail that left Dori’s own body was beyond any scream he had or would ever hear. Then he felt a claw latch onto his shoulder, painfully. The claw forced him to turn about, and he saw exactly as he knew would be there.

It was an Orc, but in his free claw, instead of the cruel glittering black rapiers their army usually used, was a knife. A Dwarven knife. Nori’s knife. Dori was paralyzed by the sight of it. Time slowed. The Dwarf would’ve been an easy kill, but the Orc simply held the knife in midair, showing it off for Dori to see just what he’d done.

Dori felt rage take over and he lunged at the Orc. Time returned to its pulsing pace as Dori beat him to the ground and bashed his face until there was barely anything left but broken skin and shattered teeth. Then he slammed an arm into the beast’s throat, causing him to howl. Words came in a piteous scream from the Orc’s gurgling mouth.

“Stop it! Stop it! It’s just a dream!”

+++

Nori curled into a fetal position, wheezing and groaning in pain, as Dori entered reality and rolled off of him, trembling.

Dori leaned against the foot of his bed, gasping. He pressed a hand to his racing heart and stared in disbelief at his brother.

“I tried to stop you,” Nori ground out as he sat up. “But you wouldn’t come out of it.” He gingerly touched a knot in his forehead and grimaced. “I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily, as though everything were his fault.

Dori couldn’t speak; overwhelming guilt and shame had stolen his vocal chords. Slowly he rose from the floor, clasping his hands to keep them from trembling. After a moment he shuffled hesitantly toward the glass bottle on his dresser.

“Don’t do it,” Nori warned softly. He knew how easy it was to go to the drink for comfort. But Dori wasn’t thinking right; just a few days ago he’d said that wine made the nightmares even more hideous and terrifying.

Dori stopped and simply stood there, staring at nothing. After a very, very long moment he spoke, his words shaky with sorrow and enervation.

“Ori died again.”

Nori remained uncomfortably silent as he stood. After a moment, he tried to sound consoling he said, “You know it’s not real.” He took a step forward, but Dori continued.

“He died again. But it was different this time. _I_ was the one who beheaded him.” Dori could practically smell the shock emanating from his brother’s body. “Then there was an Orc. He had your knife.”

“Dor’...”

“When is it going to end?” Dori felt tears of despair and hopelessness welling in his eyes. “Is there any hope for us, Nori? The Mountain lies in the ruins of the Dragon, and the outside is filled with the gore of....” He pursed his lips, leaving the words unspoken. At last he concluded numbly, “We’ve no King or Princes, no one to lead us....”

“We have each other,” Nori replied quietly.

“And you lead us just fine,” piped up another shy voice. Dori turned and saw Ori’s small form standing in the doorway.

In a single instant Dori’s could see again his youngest brother’s head flying across the battlefield, and the blade of his sword bathed in red. Everything turned white around the edges of Dori’s tunneling vision, and he dropped to his hands and knees, gasping.

“Dori!” Ori cried in alarm. Nori held him back when he tried to rush forward; he wasn’t altogether certain that Dori was safely approachable.

When he was able to see the ragged carpet through the disturbing vision Dori managed to breathe again. He felt Nori’s hand on his back as he stumbled shakily back onto his feet.

“Ori. Go get Óin, and we’ll see if he can help with anything,” Nori instructed their brother. Wide-eyed, Ori dashed off.

“Nothing helps,” Dori muttered. “Nothing...”

“We’ll just see about that,” Nori retorted, but his tone was gentle. Dori nodded slowly, sinking onto the edge of the bed. He sat numbly, with Nori’s warm hands folded over his own cold and clammy ones. Nori whispered meaningless words to solace him, but Dori didn’t listen until Nori started murmuring the words to an old song.

_Don't give up_   
_Cos you have friends_   
_Don't give up_   
_You're not beaten yet_   
_Don't give up_   
_I know you can make it good_   
  
_Don't give up_   
_You still have us_   
_Don't give up_   
_We don't need much of anything_   
_Don't give up_   
_Cause somewhere there's a place_   
_Where we belong_   
  
_Rest your head_   
_You worry too much_   
_It's going to be alright_   
_When times get rough_   
_You can fall back on us_   
_Don't give up_   
_Please don't give up_   
  
_Don't give up_   
_Cos you have friends_   
_Don't give up_   
_You're not the only one_   
_Don't give up_   
_No reason to be ashamed_   
_Don't give up_   
_You still have us_   
_Don't give up now_   
_We're proud of who you are_   
_Don't give up_   
_You know it's never been easy_   
_Don't give up_   
_Cos I believe there's a place_   
_There's a place where we belong_

Dori easily downed the sedative that Ori brought back from Óin, and at last he was able to relax without fear. He wanted to thank his brothers for everything, he truly was grateful, but he was asleep before he had the chance.

   


End file.
